


Saying "Goodbye"

by Cybra



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 01:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15499227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/pseuds/Cybra
Summary: Agent 22, Bentina Beakley, has to put SHUSH behind her...and that means cutting out everything and everyone related to it as well.And even though she knows he hates goodbyes, she has to tell her partner, Scrooge McDuck, just that.





	Saying "Goodbye"

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second canon-based story I came up with following “The Confidential Case Files of Agent 22!” Probably won’t be canon in the future (at least I pray we find that out given that means more Agent 22-McDuck stuff), but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Also blatant ship fodder. (If I can’t find fanfiction for this ship, I will write it myself, darn it!)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** _Ducktales_ belongs to the Walt Disney Company.

Bentina Beakley, better known as “Agent 22”, helped her partner, billionaire and freelancer Scrooge McDuck, stay upright as they walked.  Behind them, the party continued on as the agents of SHUSH celebrated a rather decisive victory against FOWL that would take years if not _decades_ for the fiendish organization to recover from…assuming they did at all with SHUSH fully intending to press their advantage.

“Whoo, nothing quite like that heady rush of success, eh, Twenty-Two?” he asked her, beak spread in a wide smile, his mood as bubbly as the drinks that had been served.

“I’m sure all those glasses of champagne you downed contributed to that,” she teased as she led the way into a currently-deserted briefing room and he laughed.

Somehow, she’d picked the exact same one where they’d met.  She could still remember him snoring away in one chair with his feet propped up on another, wearing the _Crown Jewels_ of all things.  Back then, it’d been the day after a long night he’d spent celebrating the fall of Jack the Tripper.

Perhaps some part of her had thought it would be appropriate to bookend their career like this.

She helped him sit down, and he propped his chin up on his fist as she took the chair beside him, the pair turning to face each other without needing any sort of prompt to do so.

“How would you know?  You didn’t drink a drop in there.  Don’t think I didn’t notice,” he said, waggling a finger at her.

She chuckled before lowering her head slightly, her stomach in knots as she tried to think of what to say to him in response.  She wanted to laugh and tease him just as he was doing now, but despite her having that same dizzying feeling of victory, what she needed to say to him brought down her mood.

“What’s wrong?”  He sat up with only a slight wobble, his face losing its cheer as he grew serious.

She’d always envied his ability to sober up quite swiftly when he focused on doing so.  It was a very useful skill.  Right now, she almost hated it.  At least all that champagne might’ve made what she had to say easier to take.

“I wanted to wait until after the mission was over before I talked to you about this,” she said slowly. “We needed to stay completely focused.”

Scrooge nodded his understanding.  They’d been the public face of the operation with Beakley acting as his bodyguard as he’d laid the foundation for the largest battle in the history of the private war between the two organizations.  If either of them had lost their focus, the man would’ve died, and it would’ve been a major victory for FOWL even without the failure of the mission:  Given Scrooge’s all-access pass to high society (even if he loathed it), SHUSH referred to him in mission briefings as their “Golden Goose”.  (Of course, being seen in public together so much for so long had prompted the gossip papers to print speculation that _she_ would be “the future Mrs. McDuck”, something both of them had rolled their eyes at and laughed off before moving on to each new phase of the operation.)

Beakley took a deep breath.  “This was my last mission.  I informed the director two weeks ago of that.”

He stared at her for a moment, his face and rigid body the very definition of shock.  It took several minutes before he _blinked_ much less responded.  His beak opened and closed as if he’d forgotten how to speak.

“I’m sorry.  I know you hate goodbyes, but…this is going to have to be one,” she told him, feeling her eyes sting.

“Why?” he breathlessly asked.  Then he moved his chair closer to hers. “Was somebody bothering you?  Did _I_ do something wrong?  Cross a line?  If I did, I’m sorry.”  His head jerked erratically from side-to-side as he clearly struggled to figure out some way of stopping her from leaving.  “Tell me, and I’ll fix it.  Somehow.”

It took every ounce of self-control she had not to simply burst into tears, the changes her body was currently going through making it all the more difficult.  Because she knew he _would_ do everything he could to do just that.  After all, the man had changed during their time together.  Oh, he was still more than capable of being the same wild and reckless man she’d first met, but he’d calmed down quite a bit even as he’d helped her loosen enough of her death grip on rules and regulations for them to stop strangling her.

“It’s not you; it’s me,” she told him, her voice cracking. “I love working for SHUSH, working alongside you, but I have to make a choice right now between being an agent and being a mother.  And being a mother has the priority.”

For the second time, he gawked at her, mouth falling open slightly.  He was so still this time that she wondered if he’d stopped breathing.  Then his gaze momentarily dropped to her middle before flicking back up to her face.

He put his elbow back on the table and put his hand to his beak, swallowing, before he lowered his hand again.  “How long have you known?”

“Only a few weeks.  I found out when I was being examined following that little clash with FOWL in your office.”

She could still remember sitting on the table, irritated that Scrooge had insisted she be examined.  So she’d been struck hard in the stomach and had been violently sick the moment things had calmed down.  She loved her partner, but he could be so _blasted_ overprotective at times, her only agreeing to the checkup because he’d convinced her with three words:

_“I hate goodbyes.”_

Then her entire world had been turned upside-down when the doctor had informed her that she and her egg, an egg she’d had no idea she’d been carrying at the time, would be all right.

She saw Scrooge tense up in horror, and she hastily assured him, “It’s all right.  The egg is fine.”

He relaxed then, staying quiet for a long minute, before he smiled at her with his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Congratulations.  How far along are you?  Does your husband know yet?”

“I’m going to be telling him after I see our doctor for ‘stomach trouble’,” she told him. “As for how far along, well, the doctor on staff couldn’t give me a clear idea, but he estimated I’m close to two months.  Won’t be too long before it’s obvious.”

Scrooge chuckled, giving his head a fond shake.  “You’re going to be quite a mother.”  He gave another laugh, the sound almost perfectly disguising the choked sound he’d almost made.  “Little one isn’t going to ever be able to get away with anything.”

They both went silent for a moment, each knowing what Scrooge dreaded to ask and each knowing Beakley’s answer.  They knew each other too well:

_You won’t be coming back?_

_No.  I have to cut SHUSH completely out of my life from here on out.  For their safety._

His hand on hers didn’t startle Beakley as he leaned forward.  Automatically, she met him halfway so they were leaning against one another.  Their “little habit” when things were pushing one of them to their breaking point, things neither of them could tell the rest of the world about, so the struggling partner could draw strength from the one who was able to stay grounded.

She gave a sob then, her tears finally breaking free of her control.  “I’m going to miss you!”

“I’ll miss you, too,” he whispered harshly, and she could feel her shoulder getting damp from his own tears. “But I know you’re going to be brilliant, Bentina.”

On impulse, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, an action he returned whole-heartedly.  They stayed like that for some time, her whimpering, sniffling, and cursing her hormones for sabotaging her attempt to tell him farewell with any sort of dignity.  Despite his own tears, he moved one hand to rub her back to comfort her.

Finally, he released her, and she reluctantly pulled back.  She took the handkerchief he offered, dabbing at her eyes and swiping at her nostrils.  Her face was likely a mess but at least the little square of fabric with the golden embroidered dollar sign did a decent enough job cleaning it up.

He held up his hand as she moved to give it back.  “Keep it.  I know it’s not much of a farewell gift, but I’m afraid it’s the best I’ve got on hand.”  He put his hand on her arm again.  “And you need to get going.  There’s a real corker of an adventure waiting for you.”

Her hand tightly clenched the handkerchief, and she gave a watery smile as she placed it in her pocket.  “I have a feeling it’ll be more useful than anything else you could’ve given me.”

The door behind Scrooge opened, and she looked up to see the director stepping into the room.  “Agent 22, your ride’s waiting for you.”

She nodded and got to her feet, looking down at her now-former partner.  She gave him one last smile.  “Goodbye, Scrooge.”

He didn’t rise from his seat as he held that sad smile in place.  “Goodbye, Bentina.”

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and left it all—the briefing room, SHUSH, and one of the best men she’d ever known—behind her.

* * *

 

As soon as she passed him by, Scrooge firmly locked his eyes on the chair she’d previously occupied.  He didn’t move as he heard her footsteps fade and then disappear entirely.  He sat there silently for several minutes, listening as the door closed and the director’s quiet steps approached.

When the man stopped just behind him, he finally said, “That was cruel, Ludwig.”

“I thought it’d make it a bit easier to—”

“To what?  To take?  Or to tell her?”  He turned his head as Ludwig von Drake stepped up beside him.  “I told you before:  She’s happy, and I can’t take that from her.”

Beakley was…had been…his partner, his closest confidante, and his _friend,_ so he’d decided long ago to surrender arguably one of the most precious treasures he’d ever found in his life just so she could stay happy.

In a way, it hurt worse than Goldie making that decision for him had.

Ludwig laid a hand on his shoulder.  “You’re a very generous man, Scrooge McDuck.”

He gave a sound that was half laugh-half sob as he shook his head.  “No, I’m not.  I’m a greedy old cuss who didn’t want her to stop smiling at him.”

The director wrapped Scrooge’s arm around his shoulders and hauled him to his feet.  “Come on.  I’ve got a bottle of brandy in my office.”

“It’s against regulations to keep alcoholic beverages on SHUSH property without explicit approval,” Scrooge said, knowing that Beakley would’ve said it herself had she still been there.

“I keep it on hand for medicinal purposes,” the other duck told him as they started to walk. “As a PhD in medicine (among other things), I’m prescribing it for a broken heart.”

“…I hope you have a large enough dose on hand then.”


End file.
